After, Therefore Because of
by Logos Minus Pity
Summary: A collection of one-shots after the events of FFXIII. Contains Lightning/Fang.  Rating subject to future change.
1. Yun & Dia, Pulsian Consultation Services

**Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc**,

or

**After, Therefore Because of**

* * *

Legal Disclaimer: Square Enix owns Final Fantasy XIII. I do not.

* * *

_Notes:_

_This is intended to be a collection of one shots taking place after the events of Final Fantasy XIII (approximately several years thereafter), and focusing primarily on Fang/Lightning. Though there shall, hopefully, be forthcoming chapters (entirely dependant on my ability to remain focused and to have time to do so), each chapter is intended to stand on its own. _

_Please enjoy._

_~LogosMinusPity_

**Yun and Dia, Professional Pulsian Consultation Services**

Fang took a deep breath of the fresh air in Palumpolum. It was her first time being back on Cocoon in ages. The air was too damn fresh here, in her opinion. But then again, she had always been a true child of Gran Pulse. Being in the hanging cities of Cocoon always put her edge after a while. The huge metropolis just never felt entirely…_natural_…to her. Give her a few chocobos and some open plain and she would be set.

_Hell, _she thought, _give me a bloody behemoth and I'll feel more at home then I do here._

She could never fully put her finger on the feeling of unease it gave her. It was true that she preferred smaller settlements like Oerba, but even so, she'd always been fine when her travels had taken her to New Paddra or any of the other burgeoning cities that now dotted the surface of the planet. Perhaps it was all the years of being taught that Cocoon was the "viper's nest", or maybe it was simply the residual feeling of being on the run from PSICOM. Regardless, it made her glad that she was only visiting Palumpolum.

She looked up at the proud, sparkling buildings of Cocoon's mercantile center, shaking her head in partial admiration.

Palumpolum had long since recovered from the nearly apocalyptic fall of Eden and destruction of Orphan years ago, with the profit-minded entrepreneurs who dominated the city becoming some of the first civilians to embrace the idea of expanding business to the formerly taboo Pulse.

Yet, even with the expansion on Gran Pulse and the constant stream of travel between it and Cocoon, Fang still got the occasional strange look at her exotic sari, particularly when entering the financial district, as she was now.

She made her way through the impeccably clean streets and past a wide bubbling fountain until she arrived before a newer stone gray building, complete with vast automatic sliding glass doors.

A gold-lettered sign stood out above the entrance.

"Yun & Dia" it proudly proclaimed. And then, in smaller subscript, "Professional Pulsian Consultation Agency".

Really, there should have been some even finer print below that, stating that the partner title was really "Farron, Yun, and Dia".

Fang couldn't help but grin as she remembered how _that_ particular conversation over the company title had gone.

After having spent countless days and weeks to create the foundations for their agency, just one step was left before they would be signed down in the business sector: a company name.

Lightning had been slowly pacing the room, her eyes plastered to the military datalog in her hands as Fang had talked to her about the logistics of the soon-to-be-born company—or rather, talked at her. The woman hadn't looked up once from her datalog, even when Fang had called out to her. Feeling sufficiently miffed, she had finally used the woman's given name to try and grab her attention.

"_Claire."_

_ "Yes?" said person responded, even then still not bothering to look up from her work. "Believe it or not, Fang, but I can in fact multitask. I am listening to you, I promise. I'm just also preparing to type up this mission report before it's due at 0600 tomorrow morning."_

_ Fang waved her hands placatingly. "Alright, alright. I'll stop bothering you then, _Captain_ Farron. I'm going to head down to the town center and turn in the official paper work. Tomorrow, "Farron, Yun, and Dia" will be an official company."_

_ That, much to Fang's surprise, had garnered an immediate reaction._

_ "What?" asked Lightning, her ghostly pale eyes narrowing. "Why is _that_ the name?"_

_ "What do you mean 'why'?" mimicked Fang, half amused. Light could be so charmingly dense sometimes, it was really too much. "You came up with the entire idea—without you, we wouldn't even be here."_

_ "No."_

_ She was slightly taken aback by the swift deferral that the soldier made._

_ "What?" asked Fang. "But you're as much part of this as Vanille and I. Your name should be on it too. You should get the recognition."_

_ "No. I don't need to be in the company title."_

_ By this point, Lightning had now made the relatively simple and harmless issue a battle. Fang could be just as stubborn as the Bodhum native, and she intended to win this battle, no matter what tactics were necessary._

_Fang came up behind Light, wrapping her arms around her torso to keep the shorter woman trapped up next to her. Lightning tensed for a brief second, as if wary of ulterior motives, and then gradually relaxed into Fang's hold._

_ "Come on," pressed Fang. "It'll be fun. Besides, you'll be a working as a company partner regardless, so your name should be up with ours. Just say yes."_

_ She interspersed her words with kisses, allowing her lips to slowly trail their way around the delicate skin of Light's neck, and delighting at the reactions she evoked. However stoic her lover was attempting to be, Fang was too finely attuned to her. A hitch in her breathing here, the slight tilting of her head there…they were all signs that Fang was getting closer to winning her battle. Her lips angled up, hovering over Lightning's ear. She had very sensitive ears, Fang knew from experience._

"_Please?" asked Fang. Her voice was barely above a whisper by this point, but even that sent a wave of shivers down Light's back. "For me?"_

_"Ah…I…"_

_ Fang felt her lips curl upward in a triumphant grin as Lightning tried to form a coherent argument. Done and done._

_ And then the unexpected happened._

_ "I…" Lightning suddenly shook her head slightly. "No."_

_ The woman pushed away, physically distancing herself. Her brow furrowed in consternation as she shook her head a second time, repeating herself. _

"_No way," said Lightning, shaking her head a third time emphatically to prove her point. "I already have enough problems with the guppies in the military as "Amodar's l'Cie". I am not putting _my_ name on _your_ company."_

_ She finished by crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively, which indicated that it was a done deal. There was no changing her mind now. _

_Well damn, _Fang had thought to herself. She hadn't expected her to be so resistant to Fang's final plan of "charming" her into agreement. Never mind that Fang hadn't been exaggerating. It really had been Lightning's brainchild, regardless of whether she wanted to accept due credit or not. Fang and Vanille would have never come up with it on their own. You couldn't really blame her though. Lightning had never been one for the popularity contest. If anything, she hated being the center of attention, which is probably why she did such a damnably good job as a military officer—never focused on the glory, just on getting the work done.

The company idea had started out simply. What with all of the field work Fang began doing in conjunction with the Frontier Corps on Gran Pulse—most of it with Lightning or through her connections—it became sensible to make an actual business out of it.

Guarding, wilderness exploration and clearing feral creature infestations were in high demand in the newly blossoming villages, and while the military was doing a damned impressive job adapting to the new lifestyle needs, they could only do so much, even with a super soldier l'Cie at their disposal like Lightning.

Realistically, Fang could bring not only a second helping hand to Lightning's, but also a vast array of terrestrial and bestiary knowledge through her experience that the former Cocoon inhabitants simply did not possess.

However, they had quickly discovered that there was a two-fold demand, present on Cocoon as much as Gran Pulse. Not only were people looking for the basic exploratory and hunting services that Fang and Lightning readily provided, but there was also an increasing need for someone well-versed with Pulsework machines and technology.

With the abrupt departure of the Cocoon fal'Cie, it became quickly apparent that the vast array of manadrive-based technology Cocoon society had relied on for centuries could no longer be sustained. That was where Vanille came into play. Even with knowledge that was over five hundred years old, she could provide a wealth of information on creating a purely machine-based modern society instead of a magic-based one.

And thus, "Yun & Dia, Professional Pulsian Consultation Agency" had been created. Though by this point in time there were certainly rival companies who offered similar services, their company was by and far considered the most capable agency to turn to when you had any sort of problem. Military, government, business, private sector, individuals…they had received contracts for services from nearly every type of person imaginable, with nearly every type of problem imaginable.

The glass doors whizzed open amicably as Fang stepped forward. She shook her head. It was hard to believe sometimes that they'd actually managed to get this far.

She strolled through the lobby of the building, stopping before the young man who sat behind the secretary's desk. Yet another new secretary, and this one looked particularly raw.

"Here to see Vanille," stated Fang.

"Name?" asked the secretary, pulling up a new screen on his interface. Somewhat amused, Fang responded with just her given name.

"Fang?" he asked, sounding skeptical. He waited a minute to see if she would elaborate. "Well, I'm sorry "Fang", but _Miss Dia_ does not have any appointments scheduled in for this afternoon. If you would like to meet with her to discuss a contract, you can give me your information and we'll be in contact with you soon."

Oh yes. This man must be very new indeed. And Fang just couldn't resist the opportunity to mess with him. It was a terrible habit of hers really, not that she felt all that terribly about it.

She leaned in forward slowly, seductively, resting one elbow on the hard granite counter, and nestling her chin in her hand. Her eyelashes lowered as she spoke, mimicking her voice.

"But it would be _such_ a hassle for me to have to go away only to come back later, especially when I'm already here _now_."

She could have laughed at the way his brown eyes widened visibly, as if already mentally weighing his options. Fang decided to nudge him further in the right direction, swinging her battle-readied lance around with her free hand while still keeping her voice suggestively jovial.

"So what say you just give Vanille a buzz to tell her she a visitor and make everyone's lives easier, yeah?"

The tip of her lance finished its arc to rest just at his eye level, the sharply glinting blades now exposed. If it was even possible, his eyes went wider, though with a very different emotion than before. He stuttered for a response.

It was her "too hot to touch" routine, as Vanille had once jokingly called it. Fang had long since learned how to use her looks to her advantage, but had also found that when coupled with the appropriately timed threat, the combination could take her far in life.

Or at least fuel her occasionally twisted sense of humor. Until others decided to ruin it, that is.

"Oerba Yun Fang!" said a new voice. It was a very reprimanding voice, too. "Lindzei help you if I have to hire another new secretary because you scare this one off like the others!"

Fang straightened back up, smoothing out the silken fabric of her sari in the process.

"By the gods, Vanille, you sound like you could be my mother!" she bemoaned, smiling nonetheless.

Her adoptive sister closed the remaining distance between them in a run, quickly enveloping Fang in a tight hug. When they pulled back, she looked around and past Fang, as if searching for something.

"Just you?" Vanille finally asked, quirking her head inquisitively.

Fang waved her hand, explaining. "Debriefing. She'll probably be by after."

Vanille made a wordless noise of comprehension. Then she turned toward the mortified secretary—who looked as though he was still processing that Fang was in fact _the_ Oerba _Yun_ Fang of his company.

"You hear that, Thomas? If a Lieutenant-Colonel—she is a Lieutenant-Colonel now, right, Fang?—comes by, you go ahead and send her on back to us, okay?"

Thomas nodded enthusiastically, suddenly regaining his ability to speak again. "Of course, Miss Dia! Is there anything else you or Miss Yun will be needing?"

Vanille waved her hand dismissively. "No, no, that'll be it for now."

Fang was barely able to keep her mouth shut until they got back into Vanille's office.

"Etro, Vanille!" she exclaimed. "How do you manage to find them? He's like a bloody lobo puppy!"

Vanille moved around a vast, beautifully carved wooden desk, relaxing back into what looked to be a rather comfortable leather swivel chair.

"Oh, he's not _that_ pathetic, Fang, you just lack patience. Let me guess, you probably still run business from that worn-down little shack of an office building Oerba, right? Do you even have a secretary or do you still do all of the paper work by yourself?"

Fang grumbled out a half-hearted response about hiring out every once in a while to do paper work.

"Fancy pants," she finally countered under her breath. She knew that it would probably make sense to expand her office and hire someone else, yet she couldn't help it. Call her old-fashioned, but she didn't see the need to get anyone else to help out when she and Lightning could take care of things just fine by themselves.

Part of it was simply the nature of their branch of the business. For Vanille, who dealt with so much of the technology and business transactions, it only made sense for her to have expanded into a small building with a slew of various budding Pulsian machine specialists as well as paper-pushing secretaries.

Fang approached the desk, running a hand over the smooth grains of the dark-stained wood.

"Of course, business here does seem to be treating you rather well, Vanille," she remarked.

Vanille let out a girlish giggle. "Well it's not like we don't have the funds for it, silly. If you're that jealous you could always upgrade your office, too.

Fang moved a small stack of datalogs so that she could perch atop the edge of the desk, one leg curled up so that her foot rested on the desk, too, while the other leg dangled off the side. It was much more comfortable this way.

"Thanks but I think I'll pass. Don't think this set up exactly fits my personality now. Don't you agree?"

She smiled and nodded her head in agreement. "All too well. Drinks?"

"You know that I would never pass up the opportunity."

Vanille opened up a drawer, hands briefly disappearing into its depths. Fang could hear the sounds of objects being shifted about before the young woman's hands resurfaced, this time bearing two glass snifters and a bottle of what looked to be a rather rare and expensive looking liqueur. She carefully poured a thumb's worth into each glass, handing one to Fang.

"Careful now," she warned, her viridian eyes half teasing. "You've been on Gran Pulse for a while."

Fang snorted, but still took the warning to heart. If there was one thing that had always impressed her about Cocoon, it was their talent to make extremely alcoholic liquors that were deceptively delicious. It was a lesson both she and Vanille had learned the hard way, multiple times. Granted, without those same strong brews, she and a certain strawberry-haired soldier might have never ended up where they were today. Liquid courage could have its benefits at times.

Fang brought the crystal glass up to her face, admiring the glowing golden drink within. A cautious sip rewarded her with a beverage that she could have sworn tasted like liquid sunshine, leaving a pleasant warmth in her stomach afterward. She didn't even want to guess how alcoholic the liqueur actually was.

Vanille let out a sigh of contentment as she took a sip from her own glass.

"So, how are you?"

The bronze-skinned woman allowed herself another drink before answering. "Can't complain, darling. Summer's been good this year, and there's been lots to hunt on the Archylte Steppes, which reminds me…"

Her voice trailed off as she reached into her belt pouch to pull out a object, offering it to Vanille. It was necklace made up of intricate patterns of multihued glass beads and claws belonging to at least three different species of beast that prowled the Steppes.

"This is from me and Lightning. I was the one who actually made it, though I guess she did a lot of material gathering, so to speak. I thought it would be a nice addition to your collection."

Vanille let out a delighted squeal as she accepted the gift, immediately putting on to match in with her other array of necklaces. Fang watched her silently, a fond grin plastering her features.

"So what about you? Grown sick of Cocoon yet?" she teased, though there was more than just a teasing undercurrent to it.

Vanille met her gaze squarely, her eyes speaking volumes of understanding.

"Not yet, Fang," she responded lightly, taking another sip. "Oh, you know that I miss Oerba and living close to you, but Cocoon is such a fun challenge! There so much to do here, it's still so exciting."

The hunter chuckled. She could never understand what Vanille saw in Cocoon, but as long as she was happy, that was all Fang could ever ask for of her sister.

"I just wish I was around to make sure that you were okay," admitted Fang. Then she winked mischievously. "Make sure that all of the boys I'm sure you're attracting treat you well, or they get a piece of me."

"Oh, Fang, you're as bad as Sahz!" Vanille decried, rolling her eyes. "I'm not a kid anymore; I _can_ take care of myself, especially in whom I choose to date!"

Fang made a noise signaling her discontent with the response. Her jaw muscles clenched with the force of trying to repress a grin as she adopted the most serious face and tone that she could manage.

"Van, all boys—especially the ones proclaiming interest in dating you—are beasts. Don't think otherwise."

Her sister laughed off the good-natured warning. "Honestly, Fang, it's probably a good thing that you do live in Oerba. It's bad enough with Sahz and Hope getting all protective of me, but you would almost certainly scare away any potential dates I might have."

"Just doing my job," countered Fang, falling back into her drink comfortably. "Speaking of which, I was on an adamntoise hunt the other day, and you'll never believe what I—"

Both Vanille and Fang looked up as the door to the office opened without so much as knock beforehand.

Fang smiled with genuine pleasure as Lightning strode purposefully in. She was in her business mode, Fang could tell, all focused intensity like a sharpened knife. She was probably as dangerous as one. And yet it was also unbelievably attractive. That steel, no-nonsense manner had a tendency to put most other people on edge. Fang had laughed watching her fair share of raw recruits shake and cower under Lightning's fist of tutelage in the army. When she was like this it put Fang on edge, too. But in a much, much different way than it did for everyone else.

She took the opportunity to drink in Lightning's form as she handed Vanille a datalog, talking with her over some new contract that the military wanted them to take care of. Fang could care less if the datalog was announcing the return of the Maker. All thoughts of business had fled her mind as soon as that massive wooden door had opened.

Lightning was in her casual military wear today instead of her formal Guardian Corps uniform, which was an improvement in Fang's expert opinion. Not that she anything against the formal suits that Light would don every now and then—uniforms, Fang had decided some time ago, could be very _hot_, especially when the right person was wearing one.

But the benefit of Lightning wearing her vest and shorts instead of the long jacket and pants (or worse, the full armor), was that Fang was given a much better view of what the full uniforms tended to hide.

She started at the top, letting her eyes glide first over the locks of strawberry blond hair before moving down to the creamy exposed skin her throat. Fang dwelled on the delicate curves of her collarbone briefly. She never ceased to admire how elegantly feminine Light really was.

Every inch of her marble form appeared as if designed by a master artisan. Alabaster skin served as the deceptively silken cover over the steel-sheathed muscles that cloaked her body.

But it wasn't just her physical appearance that was so attractive—though it certainly didn't hurt at all. It was also the way in which she carried herself.

They had once gotten into a discussion, the two of them. It had begun with Lightning remarking, almost off-handedly, how Fang reminded her of one of the big cats out in the wilds of Gran Pulse—all deadly grace combined with regal ease and relaxation. Fang had laughed, but was nonetheless pleased with the comparison. But it had posed an equal question to her on Light's nature, were she to choose.

And yet there were none to compare. Not a single living beast had yet to hold true to their living "Lightning" counterpart. If anything, she was far more akin to an Eidolon in Fang's mind, particularly in battle. That same perfectly bizarre blend of mechanical and organic, almost ethereal in a way.

It was a different category of grace than what Fang possessed. All of that refined power, unhindered by any false pretenses or appearances; and all of the unpredictable tension of a tightly coiled spring Despite the years, some things still remained unchanged—Lightning was like a loaded gun. You never knew if and when she was going to fire. Fortunately, Fang was someone who liked playing Russian roulette as a pastime.

_You never know what you're going to get_, she thought, her eyes wandering back to appreciate Lightning's finely sculpted rear. At the end of the day, that was the beauty of playing the game.

"Fang, will you stop staring at my legs and pay attention to what I'm saying?" asked Lightning, sounding disgruntled.

Fang knew that she wasn't actually upset, though. And even if she was, she knew just the perfect remedy for soothing those ruffled feathers. She looked back up at those hauntingly beautiful glacial eyes, smiling sweetly.

"Sorry, sweetheart, the deal sounds good. Should pay well, too. And I think you know quite well that it wasn't your legs that I was staring at, though they are very alluring in their own right."

Vanille promptly snorted into the datalog, attempting to muffle a fit of laughter as coughs but instead failing miserably and nearly choking herself with ill-disguised mirth.

Lightning, for her part, simply crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I swear, Fang, you have all the hormonal control of a teenager sometimes."

Smiling, Fang reached out to lay her hands on either side of Light's hips. She tugged gently but firmly, pulling Lightning close such that the other woman had to straddle one of her legs. She maintained eye contact, enthralled by that crystalline blue gaze. She could lose herself in those eyes. It was not the first time she had thought such.

"Can't help it," she said, aware of how husky her voice suddenly became, but not caring. "Guess I never really grew up."

She curled her fingers slightly, allowing their grip to move just under the hem of Lightning's shirt so that they could press against the soft and heated skin of her lower back. Light's nostrils flared, accompanying the soft intake of air. Fang wanted to garner a better reaction than that. She let her finger tips slowly dance out patterns against the other woman's skin, looking for the distinct flush that would soon color her cheeks, never breaking eye contact all the while. Alas, it was not to happen.

Vanille cleared her throat in a sound of disapproval, disrupting Fang out of her reverie. The younger Pulsian's eyes twinkled with mirth, nonetheless.

"Would you two just get a room already? This _is_ my office after all, and unfortunately I do have work that still needs to be done."

Fang felt the corners of her mouth tug upward in a smile, mentally chortling at the way Light stiffened in embarrassment as she pulled away, her eyes cast demurely downward. Some things never changed.

She slid off her makeshift seat from Vanille's desk, suddenly grabbing Lightning's arm and leading her toward the door out of the office. The soldier half stumbled, pulling back from Fang's insistent grasp.

"What are you doing?" Lightning asked, her gaze accusatory and mistrusting.

Fang sighed dramatically. She reached forward to tap the woman on her nose—it was too adorable watching the normally straight-edged officer go temporarily cross-eyed as she followed the path of Fang's finger. She explained herself patiently.

"Why, I was only doing exactly what the boss suggested."

Lightning sputtered, thrown off guard by the inane response. "She's not even your boss, Fang. You're business partners. And we need to finish this deal."

Vanille's carefree laugh chimed in. She had excused herself from around her desk, and, with one hand planted firmly on each of their backs, began pushing the two arguing women out of the door cheerfully.

"Now, now, you two are supposed to be on vacation, after all. Don't worry—I'll take care of the paperwork on this one. Go take some time for yourselves before we meet up with everyone tonight, okay?" She gave them her signature smile. "Until then, bye-bye!"

And with that, the door was shut in their faces, sealing them off from both Vanille and her workspace.

For a long moment, they both just stared as the closed door. Lightning blinked several times as if trying to fully understand what had just occurred.

This time Fang turned toward her, stretching one hand out in invitation.

"Well?" she asked, her lips upturned in a genuine smile.

She was rewarded when Lightning shook her head once in amusement, and then grabbed Fang's outstretched hand, pulling her in for an unexpected kiss.

"You're ridiculous," Lightning stated. Her own smile bellied the accusation, though.

Fang and Lightning exited the office as the young secretary watched wide-eyed, their fingers intertwined, their lilting voices drifting through the afternoon air.


	2. Thicker Than Water

**Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc**

or

**After, Therefore Because of**

**

* * *

**

Legal Disclaimer: Square Enix owns the Final Fantasy series. I do not.

* * *

_Notes:_

_First, I would like to thank all of the lovely readers who left reviews for me last time—I am glad that you enjoyed the first chapter of what is, most excitingly, now a multi-chaptered story._

_Now, may I present the second installment of _Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc_, or, as we so quaintly put it in English_ After, Therefore Because of_. I apologize for the delay—my profile page has more in depth reasoning behind my delays for this (and everything in life). This chapter is a bit more solemn at times; I decided to focus on Lightning and her past in this one, though there are lighter aspects to this story as well. And if you are more inclined to less sobering chapters, then I should like to inform you that current plans for the next chapter will most likely be very—how shall I put it?—light-hearted (and will most likely make the rating of this story shift from T to M)._

_Regardless, as per usual, please enjoy. Comments, criticisms, and any general feedback or thoughts are always greatly appreciated._

_~Logos Minus Pity_

**Thicker Than Water**

Lightning rapped her knuckles on the door three times before stepping back to wait for a response. She was rewarded a moment later.

"Claire!" said Serah, a look of pleasant surprise engulfing her features. "You're early—I think that's a record first."

Lightning smiled and rolled her eyes as Serah opened the door fully to let her in. "That's because I haven't seen my niece in months."

Serah rolled her own eyes back. "I guess the rest of us don't matter all that much, then," she joked as she gave her sister a warm hug. "Go on, go on, she's in the living room with Snow. I'll go heat up some tea for us."

Lightning made her way to the living room, her eyes lighting up when they landed on the tiny form of her eight month-old niece being cradled in Snow's massive but gentle arms. She made a beeline for them, giving Snow only a half-hearted greeting before he obligingly handed over his small daughter. Lightning smiled fondly as she looked at her niece. She had grown so much in even just the few months since Lightning had last seen her.

Her eyes, now wide and curious, were more like Snow's—a true sapphire, dark and enchanting instead of the piercing pale blue that doggedly adorned the Farron bloodline. However, her growing mass of only faintly red hair obviously displayed a mixture of her two parents' genes.

It was truly bizarre at times like this, to fully comprehend that she, Lightning, was in fact an aunt (or perhaps more importantly that her sister was actually a mother). To think that this small mess of noise and life was her sister's daughter—it made her head hurt sometimes. Serah would always be her baby sister in her mind, no matter how old they grew.

Her niece gave a loud cry suddenly, struggling in Lightning's arms.

"Serah and I have been trying to get Eloise to take her afternoon nap, but she seems like she's being particularly fussy today," explained Snow, watching his sister-in-law tiredly, the dark circles under his eyes now suddenly visible to her.

Deciding to literally take matters into her own hands, Lightning walked around the room in slow circles, rocking her niece gently and humming an old lullaby from her own childhood under her breath. Eloise ceased struggling, and soon enough her vibrant eyes had closed, slipping into the world of dreams and sleep. A soft chuckle made Light turn around to face the entrance to the living room.

Serah stood against the doorframe, a tray of tea and cookies in her arms. Her attention was on Light, though, a smile of equal parts amusement and amazement touching her features.

"Leave it to you to be able to get her to finally fall asleep, Claire," Serah chided, shaking her in disbelief as she moved to set down the tray on the coffee table.

Snow stepped forward to take his now sleeping child, gently carrying her out to put her, at long last, to bed. Lightning just smirked and took a cup of tea for herself, adding in a generous helping of milk before testing the steaming liquid. It was still burning hot on her tongue, but she suffered through it, like most things in life, stoically, instead relishing the delicate but full flavor of the tea. Serah had always had good tastes in tea, after all.

"I can't believe it! Serah and I spent the last hour trying to get her to take her nap, and you just made us look like amateurs," exclaimed Snow as he marched back into the room. He eyed the plates of cookies for one long second before giving in and grabbing a handful of the baked goods.

"I mean, you have to admit it, Light," continued Snow, washing down the mouthful of crumbs with a river of Earl Gray. "Who would have ever thought that such a stone-faced military type like you would be good with kids?"

Lightning continued to sip from the fine porcelain cup, shrugging nonchalantly and letting the steam hide any possible blush that may have otherwise been coloring her face. She wasn't going to bother to even dignify Snow with a response. Unfortunately for her, he took things, as per usual, one step further.

"So when are you and Fang going to get some little munchkins of your own, huh?" asked Snow, grinning furiously.

Lightning winced at the thought of a miniature Fang running around. Or worse, a miniature _her_. Her feelings must have shown since both Serah and Snow burst out in laughter.

She shook her head, finally conceding the point graciously and smiling. "Thanks but I think we're going to have to pass on that one indefinitely. I'd rather just stick with being the fun aunt."

"Speaking of fun aunts, where is the other trouble maker?" asked Snow. "At Lebreau's café, I'm guessing?"

Lightning nodded in wordless assent. "We were going to swing by and pick her up on the way back."

She turned to face her younger sister, not even needing to voice her unspoken question. Serah nodded in affirmation. "Let me just grab the flowers from the kitchen. Then we'll get going."

Snow escorted them do the door, waving goodbye in his ever jovial manner as the two sisters departed down the path toward the beach.

It was a beautiful day in Cocoon, with sunlight streaming through the makeshift crystal sky. Serah and Lightning walked in a comfortable silence toward the outskirts of the town, making their way into the sand dunes and hills that bordered the ocean to the south of town. It was a private area, seldom traversed by the casual visitor. Serah and Lightning knew this area by heart.

They followed the beaten and winding path for many silent minutes, until they finally reached what they had been looking for. Serah stopped before a stone memorial marker, placing the bright bouquet of flowers on the earth before the stone tablet. Lightning studied the structure as her sister carefully arranged the flowers before stepping back.

It was an inconspicuous marker, neither too small nor too extravagant. Even with the passing of time, the polished granite plaque seemed no different than the day it had first been erected. Lightning crouched down on one knee before the tombstone, running her gloved fingertips over the sharp edges of the engraved words that decorated the otherwise unbroken rock face.

_Matthieu Farron and Eloise Farron_.

The two had died within a week of one another from a strange wasting illness, leaving behind their young daughters—their ashes had long since been cast into the wind over the Cocoon Ocean that bordered Bodhum. The gravestones were simply stones, marking nothing but what memories the living still held.

Lightning couldn't speak for Serah, but she very rarely dwelled on thoughts of her parents. Part of it was force of habit. She had long since taught herself not to think about them at all in the aftermath of their sudden deaths; she had even stopped visiting the gravestones at all until after rescuing Serah from crystal stasis. She supposed it had been an emotional defense mechanism of sorts, to shut out the residual pain and confusion in the wake of their deaths.

Most of the years after their mother had died were a blur in Lightning's memory, filed away almost more like a report than a true experience despite all that had happened and how much they had both grown and matured.

Not for the first time, she wondered, if their parents were still alive, what would they think of her, of the woman she had grown into? Would they be proud? She wasn't so certain. It was a disturbing thought.

She glanced at Serah. Her sister stood with her eyes closed solemnly, her hands clasped in reverent prayer. Though both shared almost identical features. Certainly, they were of a different natural build. Lightning was taller, leaner, graced with a more naturally athletic figure, while Serah was both shorter and more petite, yet especially while growing up they could have been easily mistaken as twins. With the same pink-blond hair, fair complexion and startlingly pale blue eyes, no one had ever thought Serah and Lightning to be anything but blood sisters. And yet despite the physical similarities, how terribly different they had become.

Despite how almost arrogantly immune to opinion Lightning seemed to be to the average outsider, she was still very keenly aware of how she was generally perceived. Sister, soldier, leader, l'Cie…those were but a few simple words describing only the barest fraction of her. At the end of the day, it made even her wonder, though: who was she really? Claire? Or Lightning?

There were times when Fang when turn to her, her normally cheery eyes darkened with hurt. Once, she had even said it straight out—after all, who else besides Fang would dare to be that blunt with her?

_"Lightning, why can't you stop closing up and learn to let Claire out more?"_

A crude simplification, some would say, and yet Lightning found it scarily accurate. At her worst, she was very much a split personality. On one hand, there was the once (and still oft times) forcibly buried Claire. On the other—and most frequently on the surface—there was Lightning. One was compassionate, the other, apathetic. One was open to the world around her, the other sealed with adamantine doors.

In many ways it was thanks to Anima and the whole l'Cie ordeal (or the War of Revelations, as historians were already calling it) that she had even been able to "find" Claire again. Yet even having gone through so much, having painfully learned to open herself up again, she knew with a sometimes bittersweet sense of victory that she had done her job too well. She could never completely cross that divide between Lightning and Claire. The bridge between the two may have gotten wider and sturdier, but the gorge was still there, and at the end of the day, she knew that Claire had become the greater stranger.

Lightning, looked upward into the crystal sky briefly, as if pondering its blue clarity. It had been here, in this very spot so many years ago that she had thrown away her innocence, her childhood, and her name itself. Before her parents' grave marker she had taken that solemn vow, casting aside the very things in herself that she so strongly wanted to preserve in Serah.

And yet while that promise had been ultimately been struck over the granite stone before her, she too would never forget the true day that she adopted the name "Lightning". It had been but a month into her Guardian Corps training. She was sixteen—just barely old enough to qualify for joining the Corps—and it was their first day entering the sparring ring for hand-to-hand combat. She wouldn't lie, she had been nervous as they prepared on the sidelines, watching as raw trainees were paired up, and as one inevitably fell. It was only a matter of time until she would be called on.

_ "Farron and Sykes!" roared their instructor. "Gear up! You're both on in five!"_

_ She had always been in the forefront of the class, but even so, she was the youngest new recruit this year, and most certainly the smallest. She stared at Sykes. He was a year older with at least half a foot and eighty pounds on her. A sense of dread began to descend on her as she slowly began to wrap her cold and sweating hands._

_ Her instructor—Drill Sergeant Riaz—sauntered over to apply a petroleum jelly onto her face. She knew it was to help avoid getting sweat in her eyes and to prevent or coagulate any possible cuts, but she detested the slimy feeling of it._

_ "Hey, Farron."_

_ Lightning started, looking up into the intense gaze of her drill sergeant. His eyes searched her face for many long seconds, as if looking for something. She felt as though she was being tested. When he smirked, she felt her stomach drop out._

_ "You scared?" he taunted. He had seen the current look on Farron's face enough in his career to recognize it in a glance. He didn't need her to answer. He just shook his head, getting ready for the inevitable beating he knew would ensue for her. Then he turned to go check on Sykes._

_ She had stared after him, a sudden bubbling force of anger boiling up from deep inside her, shocking even her with its vehemence. It was a raw fury, born and tempered in the many months since her mother's passing. It had lurked within her, slinking around the shadowed corners of her thoughts, tightly caged, until the single glance from her drill sergeant allowed the beast to come roaring forth from the deep recesses of her mind, shattering the fragile barriers that had kept her emotions so carefully in check up until this moment._

_ She was so sick of seeing it in people's gazes when they looked at her. The looks of pity. Like she was some abandoned animal on the side of the road. Like she was an orphan, unable to take care of herself, let alone Serah, now that her parents had gone. It made her nearly ill with disgust. How she _hated_ that word: orphan. As though she was a helpless child. She had taken an oath by her mother's deathbed to protect Serah. She was no child, to run away in fear from a fight. She would not run. Not now; not ever. _

_ Much to her shame, she felt the emotions she had been trying so hard the past few months to hide welling up from deep inside her. It was a jumble of confusion, anger, sorrow, and so much pain. And there was the frustration. She felt the anger of being unable to _do_ anything, and the growing anger now of nearly falling back into that same weakness._

_ There was so much anger she could barely contain it. Her fists clenched unconsciously. She stood up, letting the feeling rush through her body for a brief and glorious moment before taking a deep and shaking breath. Anger could be dangerous to herself as much as to her enemies. It could make her stupid, blind to control, like a child throwing a temper tantrum. She was not a child. She had decided to stop being a child long ago. _

_ She slowly expelled her breath through her nostrils, forcing her fists to unclench, forcing her emotions even deeper within herself. She took a silent count to ten, focusing on controlling her anger. She would rule it, not the other way around._

_ It was there still—hot, vicious, and uncontrollable—but now it was held behind a wall of something else, a nearly impregnable glacial barrier. She felt strong like this, she realized suddenly. She felt coldly composed and in control—capable was the word. Her eyes flickered briefly to her drill sergeant before focusing back on the soldier in front of her—on the man who she had no intention of losing to._

_ Riaz suddenly straightened from where he was slouched comfortably in his chair, his piercing gaze now intently focused on the young woman in the ring before him._

_ "Private Halbert," he said. One of the young soldiers who had been sitting near him immediately rocketed to his feet, alert and ready for any command. "Go get Lieutenant Amodar now. Tell him…tell him Riaz has something, no _someone,_ I think he'd be interested in seeing."_

_ As Halbert took off back toward the barracks, the drill sergeant remained leaning forward in his seat, his thoughts veiled behind his weathered and beaten visage as he waited for the match to begin._

_ The buzzer sounded angrily, signaling the commencement of the sparring match. Sykes immediately charged forward, looking eager to end the match quickly. He only bothered throwing two jabs before launching his terrifyingly powerful right hook._

_ Farron side-stepped his punch with a blinding speed, quickly following up with several strong jabs directly to his gut. Sykes stumbled back with a low grunt, bringing his defensive guard up to avoid any further strikes. His eyes narrowed as he began to reexamine his opponent more carefully._

_ "…shit…moves so goddamn fast…"_

_ Only part of her mind even registered the muted commentary of the spectators. She was focused solely on the match now._

_ They exchanged several more blows, both trying to measure out each others' strengths and weaknesses. It suddenly all seemed so clear to her. She could read the entirety of Sykes' style within a second. It was all too easy to simply lure him into his aggressive attacks, and to avoid them in the same move._

_ It wasn't long before she could nearly feel the frustration pouring off of Sykes. She was dodging all of his otherwise lethal attacks, intricately dancing around him and countering with jabs as though his moves were but a game to her. However, she knew that she couldn't win against him with simple jabs; Sykes was a large guy, and wouldn't go down with anything less than a knockout blow. But that meant she needed to get in to a much closer-range. _

_ She was not afraid to do so._

_ She progressed forward, her blocks and counters becoming even faster and more involved in an effort to sustain her defense against Sykes' relentless assault. _

_ She saw Sykes winding up a left hook. She knew that she could easily dodge the impending blow with the slightest defensive weave. Instead, she took the hit square on. She barely even registered the pain above her right eye as the crowd gasped. This was her one opportunity—now as his body was turned directly into her, with his guard down and his arm overextended. She threw two lightning quick jabs directly to his face before he even had a chance to recoil his fist, and as his head lolled back in surprise, she threw an uppercut from her own left that put his last hook to shame._

_ Sykes collapsed on the ground in a boneless heap, knocked unconscious by the ferocity of her attack._

_ As she pulled back, finally dropping her guard, she felt the physical exertion strike her full force. Her lungs burned even as she took deep gasps of air, craving more oxygen. She turned her head sideways, surveying her work through her good left eye. Her right eye was already sealed shut with the wall of blood that was now ferociously pouring down from the split near her brow._

_ Even so, she felt good. Though physically tired, she felt that hardened wall still in place, keeping all of her emotions under tight reign, allowing her to move and act with the same perfect, unbiased strategic ease she had felt all throughout the match. That felt good. _

_But it also felt strange at the same time, too, as though something deep inside of her had been placed up as the sacrificial lamb to get her there. The person known as Claire, hesitated for a moment then. But then the moment was gone, and with it something else._

"Lightning" was what her fellow soldiers began to call her after that day. Initially out of admiration for her lightning-fast reflexes in the sparring ring, the nickname fit her more that what she would care to admit; spontaneous and often lethal, she was something that was a mix between both a seemingly superhuman and inhuman nature.

It had benefited her in the workplace. She had quickly rocketed through the non-commissioned officer ranks under Amodar's watchful gaze, soon acquiring a gunblade and becoming chief raid leader at only age twenty. But it also consumed her. Not immediately, no, but as steadily as the inexorable force of the ocean tides eroding away a beach head. Day by day, Claire fell even deeper into her mind, sealed within an ever-growing labyrinth that allowed nothing out and no one in.

She excused it whenever she would see the look of hurt and disappointment on Serah's face—at her insisting on being called "Lightning", at having to cancel going shopping with her _again_, because she was taking an extra weekend monster raid shift. _It's for Serah's sake_, was always her mantra. She was doing it for Serah's sake.

_What a fool I was_, she thought bitterly. To think that by sealing herself away, by forcing herself to act as an adult, that she could actually become an adult, and the perfect guardian for Serah. It _had_ worked in its own way. Food, money, shelter—there was not a single physical need that Lightning had been unable to ultimately provide for her and her sister. She supposed she had achieved her old goal of not only avoiding the orphanage house for the two of them, but also for allowing Serah to have some semblance of a childhood and of normal teenage years.

And yet, in retrospect, at what cost? Lightning would never regret the promise she made on their mother's deathbed. It was then that she had sworn then to become an "adult", to cast aside any trappings of childhood and do whatever necessary to protect Serah. She would do the same in heartbeat a million times over. Yet while she had protected the integrity of Serah's innocence, her headstrong rush to "become an adult" had nearly robbed Serah of something almost as intrinsically important: her older sister.

The sudden sensation of warmth on her hand jerked her out of her pensive recollections. She traced the hand that had grabbed her own with her eyes, looking back up at Serah's face as her sister gave her palm a soft squeeze. Lightning found herself staring into eyes that were the exact same pale blue hue as her own. And yet how different those warm and understanding eyes were.

"_You don't have to suffer just for me. I'm an adult, too, now."_

She would never forget when Serah had told her those words. It had been after the end of War of Revelations, nearly a year after the Sanctum had collapsed. It had been so out of the blue, when Light had returned in preparation for Serah's wedding.

"_I don't need a guardian anymore. I just want my sister back."_

Serah had been uncharacteristically straightforward. It had completely thrown Lightning off-guard. But perhaps that was what Serah had intended all the while—she was far more calculating that what people often thought. Regardless, it had torn through Lightning's gradually receding barriers with a terrifying clarity.

"_You don't have to be alone, Claire."_

Claire squeezed Serah's hand back, feeling the figurative ice that people always said coated her gaze melt away.

_I know_, she said to herself, feeling a smile spontaneously form on her lips. _I know_.


	3. Business Ventures, Anyone?

**Author's Note:**

* * *

****Tricked you! No, just kidding. I have indeed written another chapter for After, Therefore Because Of, but I have posted the full chapter on my AO3 account (linked in profile) as it is most certainly rated M for mature.

So if you would like to read, head over to AO3, and please enjoy.

Thanks,

Logos Minus Pity


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